


Enlightenment

by ingridmatthews



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingridmatthews/pseuds/ingridmatthews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They share this thing ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enlightenment

They are pulled from the rubble by a scrabble of Cylon hands. Legs still shaking, Boomer finds herself lifted to the light by a copy of herself and for the first time, it seems right.

_She's alive_. Alive, and so they all will be, once they can start the collective discussion among all the models.

_We have thirty six hours. That will be more than enough time._

Six can't stand, but even sitting on a pile of rubble, covered with blood and filth, she's still regal. The Fives follow her orders without hesitation, because she's a War Hero, after all.

And she's alive.

Three's crumpled body is ignored, left for the Centurions to dispose of. Inanimate flesh doesn't interest them -- it's the soul that rules the body and once that's fled to accept its new home, what's left behind doesn't matter.

They don't ask what happened to her. Even Cylons are capable of making assumptions and this is a good thing, Boomer thinks, feeling drops of sweat roll down the back of her neck in itchy rivulets. The copies mill around them like bees and she decides to gain herself and Six a much-needed breather.

"I'll take her to Healing," Boomer says in her old lieutenant's voice, the one she used to use on Chief in front of other people to prove that she was nothing more than his superior. It was a put-on then, it's a put-on now. "Continue the search for survivors."

Boomer easily pulls Six into her arms, only a little surprised at her own strength which is tenfold above what it used to be, in the days before she knew what she was. Long arms wind around her neck and she navigates the rubble carefully, walking by the odd limb or two still sticking up from the broken cement.

Six rests her head on Boomer's shoulder, feigning exhaustion. "We need to create a gathering, beyond this place," she whispers, her breath brushing Boomer's ear. "We need to catch their focus before ..."

"Before Medusa comes back to life. I got that."

"She's not going to be very happy." More copies come forward to stare at them and Six closes her eyes. Her voice sinks even lower and Boomer has to strain to hear her. "But even she has to bow to the will of the collective consciousness."

The copies make a polite path for them and Boomer forges ahead through the smoke-hazed street, ignoring their stares. "Think we'll get a consensus? Somehow I'm not so sure about that."

"There are always compromises. We're aiming for progress, not perfection. Three's opinions can be taken into consideration."

"Yeah, right. Her overwhelming opinion is that you and I need to be boxed." Boomer's laugh is dry. Humorless. "Cracking her skull open like a nut probably didn't help change that."

"You're still thinking like a human. You know that death doesn't have the same meaning for us. Yes, it's _insulting_ when you are killed by your own over a disagreement, but not something that can't be overcome."

"So, in Cylon terms, killing someone is like punching them in the nose?"

Six laughs, a whisper of air against Boomer's cheek. "Something like that."

Boomer keeps striding ahead, not knowing exactly where she's going but the part of her that's attached to the Six in her arms, maybe by proximity, maybe by collective consciousness, is leading her in the right direction.

They are nearing a less populated part of Caprica City where the buildings haven't been completely cleared out after the initial strike, where the Centurions have yet to plant any trees. It's chilly and dark, not unlike the tomb they just left, but it's quiet and they need to regroup, at least for a couple of hours.

_We have thirty-six hours._

Boomer enters one of the swankier apartment buildings, kicking the security door open with a swift punch of her boot. Six remains light in her arms and Boomer takes the stairs, not trusting the elevator even though it appears to be running.

On the first floor, there's a carpeted hall, a long line of doors and Boomer resists the urge to go 'eene-meenie-minie-moe'. She looks and sees the number "14" to her left and that strikes her as a good one to choose, a lucky one, as it's six and eight combined.

Six pulls back and stares at her, obviously reading her thoughts. "Normally such superstition would appall me."

"And now?" The door is ajar. Obviously the occupants left in a hurry and didn't bother to close it.

"It's rather sweet." Six is smiling, and even though her face is bruised and bloody, she's radiant. "And once we are over the threshold, we can have our wedding night."

"Don't make me drop you," Boomer warns, but she's trying not to laugh. Amazing. She's a Cylon and she still can crack jokes. "Because I will."

"Drop me over there then," Six orders, nodding toward a large sofa sitting in the middle of a once grand room, now filled with dust. The huge couch is plush, made of some expensive material and it's obvious Boomer picked the former home of one of the city's richer inhabitants.

Vaguely, she wonders what happened to them, but a sharp mental pinprick tells her not to be stupid.

There are more important things to concentrate on.

Six's face crinkles with pain as Boomer sets her down, as carefully as possible. She's not sure about the minute details of Cylon anatomy, but the nasty wound to Six's leg doesn't look like something she'd want to have happen to her, Cylon or not.

"This will have be repaired," Six gasps, her expression a cross between agony and annoyance. "I'll need your help."

"Name it," Boomer replies, mentally preparing to raid the building for whatever supplies they'll need. "Just tell me what to do."

"Take off your clothes."

Boomer pauses. "Look, I can still pick you up and drop you, so ..."

Six levels a stern look at Boomer. "We need to create a womb. Normally I'd do this with another Six, but it should work with you to an acceptable extent. At least enough to get me on my feet." Her mouth sets in a tight line. "Look, you need to start understanding who and what you are or this isn't going to work on any level, no matter how enlightened you are in other matters. So let's get this started. We don't have much time."

In a primal section of Boomer's brain, this makes perfect sense, as insane as it might sound to the part of her that still wants to be human. In a sane world she'd keep fighting against this madness, but is well aware that at this point they are running out of time and whatever needs to be done -- needs to be done.

Now.

Instead of arguing, Boomer does as Six orders. Oddly, her mind settles more into her Cylon consciousness with each item of clothing she removes and as she bares herself, she knows she's taking off the outer trappings of a false humanity, one piece at a time.

There's no embarrassment, no shame, not even when she helps Six remove her clothing, gingerly, taking care not to exacerbate her injuries any further.

Without needing instructions -- how strange it is to be of one mind with so many -- Boomer curls her naked body around Six in a fetal position, wrapping as much of herself around the wounded other as she can. Skin to skin, every cell in Boomer's body comes to electric life, feeling ... absorbing ... sharing information with the being beside her.

"That's it ... that's it," Six murmurs, shivering a little before relaxing against Boomer's body. Her breathing dissolves into a soft, even rhythm. "We are a circle, you and I. Without beginning, without end."

Yes. Yes, that's it, Boomer thinks, in perfect sync with Six's inhales ... exhales. "Without death, without pain."

"There is no pain," Six whispers, touching Boomer's cheek, her lips slightly parted. She's as beautiful as an angel and Boomer is enthralled. "There is no death."

"We will help each other." A light brush of Boomer's hand skims across Six's breasts, her fingers lingering at a nipple as the sacred words tumble from her lips. "We are sister, mother, child and soldier."

Six's breathing quickens, along with Boomer's. She arches into her touch with a shaky groan. "We are healer ... priestess ... supplicant ... friend."

Clinging more closely, Boomer's hand continues to roam, softly touching broken skin, _knowing_ the wounds are gradually closing. Knowing she is helping to heal, to knit cells back together in perfect unity with the power of her presence. With the power of her knowledge -- her soul.

"There is love here," Boomer breathes, unable to stop herself from kissing Six; her cheeks, her neck ... her lips. "We understand it, because we are loved."

"We are loved. We know this to be true," Six murmurs into Boomer's mouth. Their tongues briefly touch. "I love you, my sister."

"I love you, my sister," Boomer repeats and suddenly, she knows exactly who and what she is, as Six writhes beneath her touch.

What she has always been and is meant to be until God calls all His Children home again. It is the most wonderful -- perfect -- feeling Boomer has ever known.

It appears that Six isn't the only one who has been healed.

Later on, once the rapture has passed, they continue to lie together only because it feels good. Feels right.

"I am a Cylon," Boomer murmurs, somewhat astonished at how ridiculously simple it is and why had she fought against it again?

She can't remember anymore.

Six's fingers card lazily through Boomer's hair. All traces of pain have vanished from her face. "That you are and a very good one. I haven't felt this healthy in a long time. Normally it doesn't work this well between separate models."

"Maybe we are different. Destined."

Six looks pleased at the thought. "I like that idea."

"I do too." Boomer closes her eyes, wishing they could stay like this for a week at least, but she knows the clock is ticking. For them _and_ humanity. "We can call a gathering in the old Century Park. They'll be in the mood to share information after the bombing."

"Their minds will be open. Yes, I think you have the right idea," Six nods. Lifting her once-wounded leg, she carefully flexes her foot. "This is well. Are you well?"

"I am well." Perhaps it's a touch of human impulsiveness, perhaps it's just something Boomer the Cylon wants to do, but she gives into the notion, cradling Six's face between her hands and kissing her warmly. She tastes so very sweet and when its over, Boomer feels ready to take on the worlds.

Pulling back, she grins at Six's puzzled expression. "Not gonna punch me in the nose, are you?"

"Not yet," Six warns warily, but there is a hint of joy in her eyes. "There's always tomorrow."

"I stand warned," Boomer replies, rising and pulling on her clothes, with much greater precision than she ever has before. She can't remember when she's felt more _alive_. "Ready to do God's work?"

"I'm always ready." Six slowly rises and there's a flash in Boomer's mind of the old demon she once worshiped, the supposed goddess of love -- Aphrodite, was it?

But Six is more beautiful than any false goddess, more beautiful than anything because she is alive like Boomer is and together they share this one thing no one else in the universe has.

Enlightenment, and it feels like destiny. And as fearful as Boomer is ...

It feels like joy.

~*~

end

Comments are very welcome.


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